The Complete Works of William Shakespeare, William Shakespeare [book recommendations based on other books txt] 📗

>PROSPERO. Thou dost; and think’st it much to tread the ooze Of the salt deep,

To run upon the sharp wind of the north, To do me business in the veins o’ th’ earth When it is bak’d with frost.

ARIEL. I do not, sir.

PROSPERO. Thou liest, malignant thing. Hast thou forgot The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and envy Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her?

ARIEL. No, sir.

PROSPERO. Thou hast. Where was she born?

Speak; tell me.

ARIEL. Sir, in Argier.

PROSPERO. O, was she so? I must

Once in a month recount what thou hast been, Which thou forget’st. This damn’d witch Sycorax, For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible To enter human hearing, from Argier

Thou know’st was banish’d; for one thing she did They would not take her life. Is not this true?

ARIEL. Ay, sir.

PROSPERO. This blue-ey’d hag was hither brought with child, And here was left by th’sailors. Thou, my slave, As thou report’st thyself, wast then her servant; And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate To act her earthy and abhorr’d commands, Refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, By help of her more potent ministers, And in her most unmitigable rage,

Into a cloven pine; within which rift Imprison’d thou didst painfully remain A dozen years; within which space she died, And left thee there, where thou didst vent thy groans As fast as mill-wheels strike. Then was this island-Save for the son that she did litter here, A freckl’d whelp, hag-born-not honour’d with A human shape.

ARIEL. Yes, Caliban her son.

PROSPERO. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know’st What torment I did find thee in; thy groans Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the breasts Of ever-angry bears; it was a torment To lay upon the damn’d, which Sycorax Could not again undo. It was mine art, When I arriv’d and heard thee, that made gape The pine, and let thee out.

ARIEL. I thank thee, master.

PROSPERO. If thou more murmur’st, I will rend an oak And peg thee in his knotty entrails, till Thou hast howl’d away twelve winters.

ARIEL. Pardon, master;

I will be correspondent to command,

And do my spriting gently.

PROSPERO. Do so; and after two days

I will discharge thee.

ARIEL. That’s my noble master!

What shall I do? Say what. What shall I do?

PROSPERO. Go make thyself like a nymph o’ th’ sea; be subject To no sight but thine and mine, invisible To every eyeball else. Go take this shape, And hither come in ‘t. Go, hence with diligence!

Exit ARIEL

Awake, dear heart, awake; thou hast slept well; Awake.

MIRANDA. The strangeness of your story put Heaviness in me.

PROSPERO. Shake it off. Come on,

We’ll visit Caliban, my slave, who never Yields us kind answer.

MIRANDA. ‘Tis a villain, sir,

I do not love to look on.

PROSPERO. But as ‘tis,

We cannot miss him: he does make our fire, Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices That profit us. What ho! slave! Caliban!

Thou earth, thou! Speak.

CALIBAN. [ Within] There’s wood enough within.

PROSPERO. Come forth, I say; there’s other business for thee.

Come, thou tortoise! when?

 

Re-enter ARIEL like a water-nymph Fine apparition! My quaint Ariel,

Hark in thine ear.

ARIEL. My lord, it shall be done. Exit PROSPERO. Thou poisonous slave, got by the devil himself Upon thy wicked dam, come forth!

 

Enter CALIBAN

 

CALIBAN. As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’d With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen Drop on you both! A south-west blow on ye And blister you all o’er!

PROSPERO. For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch’d As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made ‘em.

CALIBAN. I must eat my dinner.

This island’s mine, by Sycorax my mother, Which thou tak’st from me. When thou cam’st first, Thou strok’st me and made much of me, wouldst give me Water with berries in’t, and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night; and then I lov’d thee, And show’d thee all the qualities o’ th’ isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.

Curs’d be I that did so! All the charms Of Sycorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you!

For I am all the subjects that you have, Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me The rest o’ th’ island.

PROSPERO. Thou most lying slave,

Whom stripes may move, not kindness! I have us’d thee, Filth as thou art, with human care, and lodg’d thee In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate The honour of my child.

CALIBAN. O ho, O ho! Would’t had been done.

Thou didst prevent me; I had peopl’d else This isle with Calibans.

MIRANDA. Abhorred slave,

Which any print of goodness wilt not take, Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee, Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee each hour One thing or other. When thou didst not, savage, Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like A thing most brutish, I endow’d thy purposes With words that made them known. But thy vile race, Though thou didst learn, had that in’t which good natures Could not abide to be with; therefore wast thou Deservedly confin’d into this rock, who hadst Deserv’d more than a prison.

CALIBAN. You taught me language, and my profit on’t Is, I know how to curse. The red plague rid you For learning me your language!

PROSPERO. Hag-seed, hence!

Fetch us in fuel. And be quick, thou ‘rt best, To answer other business. Shrug’st thou, malice?

If thou neglect’st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I’ll rack thee with old cramps, Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar, That beasts shall tremble at thy din.

CALIBAN. No, pray thee.

[Aside] I must obey. His art is of such pow’r, It would control my dam’s god, Setebos, And make a vassal of him.

PROSPERO. So, slave; hence! Exit CALIBAN

 

Re-enter ARIEL invisible, playing ad singing; FERDINAND following

 

ARIEL’S SONG.

Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands;

Curtsied when you have and kiss’d, The wild waves whist,

Foot it featly here and there, And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Hark, hark!

[Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]

The watch dogs bark.

[Burden dispersedly: Bow-wow.]

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticleer Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow.

FERDINAND. Where should this music be? I’ th’ air or th’

earth?

It sounds no more; and sure it waits upon Some god o’ th’ island. Sitting on a bank, Weeping again the King my father’s wreck, This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air; thence I have follow’d it, Or it hath drawn me rather. But ‘tis gone.

No, it begins again.

 

ARIEL’S SONG

Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes; Nothing of him that doth fade

But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.

Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: [Burden: Ding-dong.]

Hark! now I hear them-Ding-dong bell.

 

FERDINAND. The ditty does remember my drown’d father.

This is no mortal business, nor no sound That the earth owes. I hear it now above me.

PROSPERO. The fringed curtains of thine eye advance, And say what thou seest yond.

MIRANDA. What is’t? a spirit?

Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir, It carries a brave form. But ‘tis a spirit.

PROSPERO. No, wench; it eats and sleeps and hath such senses As we have, such. This gallant which thou seest Was in the wreck; and but he’s something stain’d With grief, that’s beauty’s canker, thou mightst call him A goodly person. He hath lost his fellows, And strays about to find ‘em.

MIRANDA. I might call him

A thing divine; for nothing natural

I ever saw so noble.

PROSPERO. [Aside] It goes on, I see,

As my soul prompts it. Spirit, fine spirit! I’ll free thee Within two days for this.

FERDINAND. Most sure, the goddess

On whom these airs attend! Vouchsafe my pray’r May know if you remain upon this island; And that you will some good instruction give How I may bear me here. My prime request, Which I do last pronounce, is, O you wonder!

If you be maid or no?

MIRANDA. No wonder, sir;

But certainly a maid.

FERDINAND. My language? Heavens!

I am the best of them that speak this speech, Were I but where ‘tis spoken.

PROSPERO. How? the best?

What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard thee?

FERDINAND. A single thing, as I am now, that wonders To hear thee speak of Naples. He does hear me; And that he does I weep. Myself am Naples, Who with mine eyes, never since at ebb, beheld The King my father wreck’d.

MIRANDA. Alack, for mercy!

FERDINAND. Yes, faith, and all his lords, the Duke of Milan And his brave son being twain.

PROSPERO. [Aside] The Duke of Milan

And his more braver daughter could control thee, If now ‘twere fit to do’t. At the first sight They have chang’d eyes. Delicate Ariel, I’ll set thee free for this. [To FERDINAND] A word, good sir;

I fear you have done yourself some wrong; a word.

MIRANDA. Why speaks my father so ungently? This Is the third man that e’er I saw; the first That e’er I sigh’d for. Pity move my father To be inclin’d my way!

FERDINAND. O, if a virgin,

And your affection not gone forth, I’ll make you The Queen of Naples.

PROSPERO. Soft, Sir! one word more.

[Aside] They are both in either’s pow’rs; but this swift busines

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning Make the prize light. [To FERDINAND] One word more; I charge thee

That thou attend me; thou dost here usurp The name thou ow’st not; and hast put thyself Upon this island as a spy, to win it

From me, the lord on’t.

FERDINAND. No, as I am a man.

MIRANDA. There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.

If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with’t.

PROSPERO. Follow me.

Speak not you for him; he’s a traitor. Come; I’ll manacle thy neck and feet together.

Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be The fresh-brook mussels, wither’d roots, and husks Wherein the acorn cradled. Follow.

FERDINAND. No;

I will resist such entertainment till Mine enemy has more power.

[He draws, and is charmed from moving]

MIRANDA. O dear father,

Make not too rash a trial of him, for He’s gentle, and not fearful.

PROSPERO. What, I say,

My foot my tutor? Put thy sword up, traitor; Who mak’st a show but dar’st not strike, thy conscience Is so possess’d with guilt. Come from thy ward; For I can here disarm thee with this stick And make thy weapon drop.

MIRANDA. Beseech you, father!

PROSPERO. Hence! Hang not on my garments.

MIRANDA. Sir, have pity;

I’ll be his surety.

PROSPERO. Silence! One word more

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate thee. What!

An advocate for an impostor! hush!

Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he, Having seen but him and Caliban. Foolish wench!

To th’ most of men this is a Caliban, And they to him are angels.

MIRANDA. My affections

Are then most humble; I have no ambition To see a goodlier man.

PROSPERO. Come on; obey.

Thy nerves are in their infancy again, And have no vigour in them.